Unraveling With Every Word
by ohtheirony
Summary: After the end of the wizarding war and death of her brother, Ginny's life began to unravel. She promptly took off, not to be heard by anyone. Well, that is until one winter morning, when everything changed. GH.


**Disclaimer- It's all JKR's of course :D**

**A/N This is my first fanfiction, so I would appreciate it if you didn't completely hate on me. Hah. Well anyway, this basically takes place after the war and Fred's death, when Ginny takes off to get away from the pain of loosing friends and a brother. It's set two years after the seventh book. Enjoy (hopefully)!**

**Prologue.**

_Dear Ginny,_

_You'll never guess who I ran into yesterday. I was grocery shopping yesterday, due to mayonnaise being literally the only item in the fridge, and walked straight into our old Quidditch mate, Katie Bell. She said she was doing great, and asked about you. I said you were doing fine, I hope you don't mind. We talked for a bit, but I kept feeling the need to burst out laughing as we spoke. I looked into her eyes and all I could remember was that time when Ron bashed her face in with a Quaffle during one of the first practices of the season during my sixth year. Do you remember that? I must admit, I can remember the details painstakingly well. You called him a prat, and I told you not to. You replied wittily that somebody had to, and that I seemed to busy._

_Remember those days? They seem so long ago.** I guess they really are.**_

_I feel like I have so much new to tell you; things that seem too insignificant to put in a letter but always make me think of you. It's been a while since I've written; i know. It's not like I've been busy or moved on, I'm just finding it more and more discouraging to keep telling you my whole life story when you haven't even written to let me know if you're alive. Don't think I'll stop though, Ginny, because we both know I wont. And we both know that you're alive and too stubborn to come home. And we both know that that's not going to make me give up. I love you._

_Harry_

**Dingy Two-Bedroom Flat, Boston**

**Winter of 2000**

Ginny smoothed out the wrinkled edges of the letter. It had arrived while she had been slicing her bagel and she couldn't help but read and reread it throughout the entire duration of breakfast. Sure, she had left that life a long time ago, but she figured if Harry had spent all that time writing a letter she could at least read it. Not respond, no, she had never written as little as a hello to anyone from her old life in over two years. It was a page in her book that she would never allow herself to turn back to, and she was very happy with her decision, thank you very much.

And when Ginny spoke about 'leaving her old life' she meant that in the fullest and most literal possible way. No, she hadn't just left her friends and family to flee to the United States, she had left her entire existence. In this new life in a place called Change she played her part as a muggle to the point where the lines between acting and being were blurred. She kept her name, for the sake of her mother, but she left it's meaning in an airport in London.

Ginny looked once more at the signature in the bottom right hand corner. She traced the letters with her finger, breathing in every loop and curve of each line. Maybe it was cruel, but it was an odd sort of comfort to know he was the same as she'd left him.

She folded the letter once, then again before making to put it safely into her pocket. Before she could do so, however, she was violently interrupted.

"What's this?" Her muggle roommate Chris asked loudly as he snatched the parchment easily out of her grasp. Ginny immediately jumped up from her seat at the table in a mad attempt to retrieve it, however due to the fact that Chris was nearly a foot taller then her it was in vain. The only thing she had left was her voice.

"Christopher you put that down right this instant."

Ginny's harsh words were like water to a flame. If there was one thing, besides the obvious hair, that Ginny had inherited from her mother was her firm tone. After hearing her use it so many times on all of her brothers, it was a bit hard not to pick up on it. Hands on her hips, brows furrowed; it was all identical to Mrs. Weasley. Not that Chris knew that.

"Fine fine..." He surrendered, handing the letter to Ginny and taking several cautionary steps backward. "What is it, anyway?"

She shrugged, running a hand through her wavy hair. "Just a letter from my grandfather."

_A letter from my grandfather._ It had been Ginny's excuse after every note from Harry had been delivered since she moved in with Chris. Although any quick glance at the words on the paper would tell Chris otherwise, he never asked to read them; and for that Ginny was overwhelmingly thankful. The last thing she wanted was someone _else _prying into her thoughts.

"Aw, did I miss the freak show? I hope that bird didn't drop any presents on the counter again..." Due to the fact that Chris had been raised with the whole idea of FedEx and mail trucks, the first time an owl had entered the kitchen had been a crazy experience of swearing and swatting for both of them. The idea that Ginny's grandfather just had a trained owl, however, seemed to grow on Chris after a while. Despite how unbelievably flawed the excuse was.

"So what are you up to today?" Chris mused as he slid into Ginny's vacant seat at the table, leaning into the center to grab an apple out of the fruit bowl.

Ginny shrugged as she shoved Harry's letter deep into her jean pocket. "I don't know; I think I'm going to do some clothes shopping. I've got nothing for those parent-teacher conferences on Friday. I wouldn't want the parents to think that their child is being taught by a hobo."

Chris laughed at her joke, rubbing on the apple onto his sleeve. "Need some help?"

"No, I'll be in the dressing room for most of the day; it's sure to be a bore." Rationally speaking, this was a true statement. Ginny probably _would_ be trying on a lot of different items. Realistically speaking, however, Ginny just wanted to be alone. This new letter had caused her mind to wander; and it was taking nearly all of her energy just to keep her focus now on Chris.

He nodded in agreement. Ginny picked her plate up from the table and dropped it into the sink before crossing through the living room into her bedroom. It was a relatively small room, considering the fact that niether Chris nor Ginny had high enough paying jobs in the city to be able to afford much, however Ginny had really grown to appreciate her room. It had a large king sized bed facing the window with an old comfortable mattress that had shaped perfectly to Ginny due to the amount of time she spent snuggled up in it watching the busy street below. Her dresser leaned against the wall directly next to the wall, and both it and the closet were filled to the top with muggle wardrobe that Ginny had acquired throughout the years.

Ginny opened said closet door, pulling from it her jacket and a scarf. A quick glance out the window showed her it was snowing, as it did the majority of the days in Boston in January. Moving now to her dresser, she pulled out an old pair of gloves that her mother had made her.

Several minutes later, Ginny emerged from the apartment building, sliding her keys into her jacket pocket as she did. She breathed in the outside air deeply; something about the smell of old cars and chaos was comforting to her. Meandering throughout the city was something Ginny spent a lot of time doing, so it didn't take long for her to reach her first stop.

She nodded at the cashier as she entered the boutique. A scarf wrapped around the display mannequin had caught her eye while she had been walking, so she wandered first in that direction of the shop; the crisp dollar bills of her last paycheck burning a hole in her pocket.

It wasn't too hard to forget about Harry's letter. Well, not forget, but shove it into a dark crevice of the back of her mind that she had saved for him since she moved to Boston. The one thing she couldn't stop, however, was the icy feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with the weather. It had been a constant feeling in her gut for the past two years, but it was something she had just learned to cope with. It was a small price she would have to pay in order to avoid her reality.

A small '_pop_!' pulled Ginny away from her thoughts. Maybe it was just because her past life was so close to her that day, but Ginny couldn't help but relate the noise to someone apparating. But in Boston? It was a long shot, Ginny knew, but that didn't stop her from dropping her items and taking to the street in hidden hopes of discovering a witch or wizard in the process.

She leaned against the boutique window, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth as she looked up the street. She squinted her eyes to look further forward into the crowd around her.

'_Pop!'_ It was there again from behind her. Whipping around, Ginny began to walk faster through the packed street. She wouldn't talk to the wizard, no, so it was pointless to care so much. However, nothing could stop her feet from moving as she searched further for the source of the sound.

**The Kitchen, The Burrow**

**Same Day**

At a glance, it was hard to believe that anything had changed in the Weasley's household. The kitchen, whose capacity limit was probably around four, was bustling with a good portion of the same faces that had colored it in the past.

In this room there wasn't any mourning or sadness, tales of yesterdays and tomorrows. It was just a mass of chaos, and a mass of togetherness.

"Harry dear, will you pass me that plate?"

Harry looked up from the mashed carrots he was feeding to Ted to Mrs. Weasley. She looked tired, he noted, as he obliged. "Do you want me to wash the dishes today? I've got time before work."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Oh no dear, I've got nothing planned for today anyway."

"Nothing planned for today?" George entered the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. "That's a shame. I for one have quite the expedition planned." He kissed his mom on the cheek, dropping a bag filled with bagels on the table. Behind him was Hermione, who passed more quietly into the kitchen to give Ron a good morning kiss. Harry couldn't help but notice, however, that she was wearing the same smug look George was, however hers seemed to be laced with guilt.

"Now a good time?" George asked Hermione, who shrugged.

"It's as good as any, I suppose."

"Well then, Harry? Do you think we could have a word with you outside?"

Harry looked dumbfounded. Hermione and George _never _did anything together on account of having such different personalities, and seeing them at it was a little... well frightening. With Hermione's knowledge and George's creativity, whatever they were planning would have to be catostrophic.

He turned to Ron, who was sitting across from him, and raised an eyebrow. The look Ron gave him was even and hard to read, however it's lack of expression told Harry exactly what he needed to know. Ron was in on it too.

Picking Ted up and handing him to an awaiting but equally curious Mrs. Weasley, Harry numbly followed his two friends into the garden behind the garage.

"Why don't you sit down," Hermione spoke cautiously, indicating a stump to Harry's left.

"I'm good standing, thanks." Harry responded. "What's all this about?"

Hermione looked at George, who shrugged nonchalantly "Ginny." He said simply.

Harry's heart dropped as a million of scenarios flashed through his mind. It must have been quite a visible reaction, however, because George spoke quickly. "She's fine, mate. No need to loose your breakfast. This is happy news."

A million more scenarios flashed through his brain; most of which evolving Ginny in a wedding dress marrying some blurry faced, yet still visibly good looking man. "Happy news?" He asked warily.

"We know where she is." Harry's heart, which now seemed to be doing a sort of jig, leaped higher then it had in two years.

"Did she write to you?"

"No.." George began, obviously getting to the tricky part of the story. "You wrote to her."

Harry raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze to Hermione for the real answers. She shrugged uncomfortable before speaking.

"Well Harry... we know that you're the only person who really still takes the time to write to her. Your owl seems to know the way to where ever she is. So we-"

"Created a tracking device and tied it to your owls foot." George finished excitedly. Harry's jaw dropped.

"You.. you what?" He finally choked out.

"Assuming she took the letter from the owls foot, it would give us the approximate area that she's living in. I designed it, but Hermione made it work. Smile Harry, we're not cutting your arm off. Or ear, for that matter..." He joked, grazing the empty area on the side of his face that should be his ear.

Harry didn't bother laughing at George's joke. "And you tied it to _my _owl? Without_ asking_ me?"

"I told you he'd be mad." Hermione muttered.

"If she wanted us she'd still be here. Just let her go!" Harry forced the words out; although he wanted nothing more then to see Ginny, he knew that something like this was just betraying her trust.

George snorted; though his reaction was more sarcastic and dry then before. "Says the bloke that still writes to her weekly. She's my sister, and I'm going to get her despite your ridiculously mental morals."

"Then why even ask me, eh?" He questioned, throwing his arms up in frustration before turning back towards the house.

After he left, Hermione sighed loudly. "That went well."

"Oh well," George said with a shrug. "It's just me and you going, then?"

**The Streets, Boston**

**Continued**

Ginny had sworn that the apparition sound had come from close by, but finding the exact location in such a large crowd of people would be nearly impossible. Or so Ginny would have thought. However, almost as soon as she reached the area of the apparition she regret it; a familiar shade of brown, frizzy hair was bobbing in her direction.

Swearing to herself, Ginny promptly turned in the opposite direction. What she didn't expect to find upon turning, however, was another red head standing just feet away from her. He was staring at her with an even look; obviously not sure whether to laugh or cry.

George approached her cautiously, putting a hand on each of her shoulders as he reached her so that she couldn't run for it. He stared at her for a moment, searching for an answer that she refused to give. After a while, George finally spoke in his usual joking manner.

"What a coincidence; I didn't know you were in Boston!"

**A/N Thanks for reading! Please review.**


End file.
